


The Drawer

by silver_etoile



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25424512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: Martino isn’t exactly sure how The Drawer happened. It’s just a drawer, the bottom one in the dresser that should be filled with sweaters or socks, but instead, it’s filled with all things bright and latex and little bottles of things that Martino isn’t sure where Nico finds them.
Relationships: Niccolò Fares/Martino Rametta
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	The Drawer

“When’s the proposal, bro?” Gio asks, slapping Luchino on the shoulder as he stares after Silvia, a dopey smile on his face as she crosses campus.

“Are you kidding? She just barely called me her boyfriend a few months ago,” Luca says, and Martino rolls his eyes as his phone vibrates in his pocket.

“Even Love Wizard advice can’t fix whatever’s going on there,” he jokes, smiling at Nico’s name on the text message notification.

Gio shoves Martino instead. “That’s not the tune you were whistling when it got you Nico.”

Martino doesn’t bother to argue, opening the message from Nico.

_When are you going to be home?_

Home. It still makes Martino smile, knowing that his home is with Nico now. It has been more than a year, but it’s still a rush whenever Nico calls it that.

_The boys were talking about FIFA at Gio’s._

“What are you smiling at?” Gio asks as Martino send his reply, and Martino shrugs.

“Nothing. Just Nico.”

“Proof the Love Wizard advice works,” Gio proclaims, leaning back against the building. It was a beautiful day outside, students rambling across campus to their classes, couples perched by the fountain. Martino has class in a few minutes while Gio and Luca are already done for the day.

“I don’t think you should propose,” Martino points out as Luca makes a face and his phone vibrates again with another message. “You’re way too young. We haven’t even finished the first year of Uni yet.”

“I’m not that dumb,” Luca assures them.

Martino leaves it to Gio to respond to that, opening Nico’s message.

_I think you should come home instead._

Glancing up, Martino watches the way Gio sets a reassuring hand on Luca’s shoulder as he says something about Silvia.

 _I’m sure you can come,_ he writes quickly. _Even if you suck at FIFA._

After he send it, he pauses, rereading what he wrote and frowning. He hopes Nico takes it at a joke—he knows sometimes Nico can get it in his head that people don’t want him around. He hopes this isn’t one of those times. Nico had seemed fine that morning when Martino had left, but he knows all too well how fast moods can change.

The typing bubbles pop up and Martino waits, not paying attention to whatever Gio and Luca are talking about now.

_I’d rather have you all to myself… I might have picked up a little something for the drawer._

The Drawer.

Martino isn’t exactly sure how The Drawer happened. It’s just a drawer, the bottom one in the dresser that should be filled with sweaters or socks, but instead, it’s filled with all things bright and latex and little bottles of things Martino isn’t sure where Nico finds them.

It started with just one toy, a quirk of Nico’s eyebrow, curious, questioning, waiting for Martino to say yes. Martino isn’t against a little _help_ in the bedroom, and he certainly wasn’t aware of the wide range of products out there for just such a thing.

Nico has taken it upon himself to find the ones he likes, introducing Martino to them slowly, carefully, usually with a soft, trusting smile, big eyes, a few gentle kisses along Martino’s breastbone that always ends with Martino breathing out a curse and pulling Nico closer.

The Drawer has certainly grown in the time they’ve lived together, but mostly, Martino doesn’t think about it—he definitely tries not to think that all their friends know about it—not until Nico gets that glint in his eye and then it’s a race to the bedroom.

Martino’s eyes widen slightly at Nico’s message, an unbidden thrill crawling up his spine. He can’t help glancing up, as though the guys can sense what Nico’s text says, that they’ll somehow know that Martino’s mind is coming up with all sorts of ideas of what Nico might have gotten this time.

 _What is it?_ he sends, knowing Nico can’t send him a picture, will have to describe it. That’s usually what gets Martino, the time it takes Nico to explain why he chose something specific, what it’s going to feel like, how much he wants to use it with Marti.

He probably shouldn’t be asking with Gio and Luca over his shoulder, five minutes from the start of his last class, the now agonizing wait for it to end before he can go home and find Nico.

 _I’m already thinking about you,_ Nico sends next, not answering Martino’s question. _Waiting for you. Want you home now_.

“Fuck,” Martino mutters under his breath before he can stop himself. He knows exactly what Nico’s doing right now, probably sprawled in their big bed, bare skin gleaming in the early afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, eyes closed, a half smile on his lips the same way he has when it’s Martino pressing kisses down his chest.

“What?” Gio asks, and Martino’s head snaps up from the phone, shoving it into his pocket as though Gio can read it from three feet away.

“What?” he parrots, knowing he probably looks suspicious as his cheeks go red.

Gio frowns in reply, as though Martino is acting weird. “Everything okay?”

Gathering himself, Martino grabs his bag from the floor just as his phone vibrates again. “I got to get to class,” he says hurriedly, though listening to a lecture on the biological instincts of frogs is the last thing he’s thinking about as he glances at the message on his phone.

_One hint: it’s already inside me. Hurry home._

Swallowing hard, Martino’s fingers clench around the phone. The next few hours are going to be torture, he thinks, as he forces himself to turn and leave the guys, pushing open the door to the building. Pure and utter torture.

*

The living room is silent as Martino steps inside, the front door dragging against the floor as it shuts behind him, latches with a quiet click, and he lets his bag slide to the floor alongside Nico’s already there.

“Ni?” he calls into the empty apartment, kicking off his shoes and dumping his sweatshirt on the old flowery-fabric-ed chair they hadn’t bothered to get rid of when they moved in.

He knows Nico is home, if not from his bag by the door, then by the texts on his phone from just half an hour ago, urging Martino to hurry home. Martino can’t deny that he practically ran out of class, not even bothering to listen to whatever assignment the professor shouted after them.

Martino isn’t sure what he expected to find at home—maybe Nico spread out on their bed, completely naked, skin gleaming against the dark sheets, tempting and knowing as he meets Martino’s gaze. He certainly spent too much of the last few hours contemplating what he would find once he finally got home, and somehow, it isn’t Nico with his ankles crossed, sitting fully-clothed on the bed, reading a book.

For a second, Martino is confused as he lingers in the doorway, his mind trying to reconcile the texts Nico sent and the image before him.

Nico notices him before he speaks, a smile spreading across his face as he sets the book aside.

“You’re home,” he says, matter-of-factly, and Martino can only nod.

“Yeah.”

Not his best line, but it makes Nico’s grin widen as he slides off the bed. Martino’s been having a hell of a time staying focused the last few hours in class, stopping his mind from wandering to images of Nico’s straining muscles, the feel of Nico’s curls slipping through his fingers, Nico’s lips pressed to his throat. And now Nico is here, fully-clothed in his jeans and long-sleeved tee-shirt, reaching for Marti as he presses a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispers in Martino’s ear, and maybe, Martino thinks, there is something more going on here than the obvious.

“Yeah?” Martino says again, and he doesn’t roll his eyes at how stupid he sounds, too distracted by Nico’s fingers gliding over his cheek, the glint in his eyes.

Nico bites down on his lower lip as he nods, taking Martino’s hand, but he doesn’t lead Martino to the bed, instead backing him up against the wall, and Martino has to smile as his back hits it with a thud.

“Yeah,” Nico echoes, guiding Martino’s hand down his stomach, until it’s pressed to the bulge in his jeans, and the noise Nico lets out makes the hairs on the back of Martino’s neck stand up.

Nico is definitely hard as Martino’s hand curls around him, and he wonders how long he’s been like this. How long he’s been waiting for Martino to come home, if he’s already gotten himself off in the meantime.

“You shouldn’t send me texts like that,” Martino says as Nico presses up against him, chest warm and firm, and Martino has to swallow.

“Why not?” Nico asks, mouth hovering over Martino’s jaw, not quite close enough to brush against it, but Martino can feel the rush of breath against his skin, and he really wishes they both weren’t wearing so many clothes right now.

“Because I shouldn’t be thinking about you naked while I’m supposed to be paying attention in class.”

Nico smirks, gazing at Martino for a second. “But you were.”

“Fuck, Ni,” Martino breathes as Nico slides in closer, as if he can get any closer with all these clothes in the way. Martino is growing hot under the collar, a flush on his cheeks as Nico reaches for the button on his jeans.

Nico seems satisfied with that answer, and Martino takes a breath as Nico gets his jeans undone, hand sliding under his boxers. He’s tried very hard not to get hard the last hour, with strangers sitting all around him, oblivious to the thoughts running through his brain, the professor droning on about some frogs and their mating cycles. Martino doesn’t remember any of it even now as Nico leans in and kisses him finally.

Martino stumbles into Nico, wanting more than anything to get his hands all over him, reaching for his shirt, tugging it up, annoyed when it gets stuck on his elbows.

Nico doesn’t laugh as Marti pulls at the shirt, gets it tangled around his head, strips it off finally with a huff. Instead, he just yanks Martino back to his mouth, short and hot kisses that echo all the way down his spine. Teeth and tongues and panted breath between them, almost frantic movements as Nico shoves Martino’s jeans down his thighs, gets them both half-naked.

They fall onto the bed, ungraceful, a flounce of pillows and sheets around them, and Martino doesn’t hesitate to roll on top of Nico this time, watching the way Nico smiles, slow and wanting, hands on Martino’s neck, a gentle exhale as Martino gets their bodies aligned, a throb in his cock as it presses against Nico’s, still too many layers of fabric between them—Marti’s boxers, Nico’s jeans, a zipper, a button, too many barriers considering how much Martino wants this.

“Didn’t you say,” Martino says as Nico leaves kisses down his neck, taking his time licking up his throat, and he almost loses his train of thought when Nico sucks a mark onto his collar bone. Blinking away the haze, fingers curling into Nico’s soft hair, Martino struggles to focus with Nico’s fingers playing up his spine, pushing his shirt up to his shoulder blades. “Didn’t you say you had something new?”

Nico’s fingers pause and his hips push up instead, sending a jolt of heat through Martino, a throb of desperation deep in his gut. He almost doesn’t care about whatever it is if he can just get off right now—get Nico’s mouth on his dick, his hand, anything, really.

“Been thinking about it?” Nico asks, breath hot on Martino’s ear, and Martino has to swallow before he nods.

“You made me.”

He knows Nico is smiling, even if he can’t see his face, can only feel the way Nico’s heart is beating against his, rapid, chest hot under his hands. Martino has spent the last few hours going over every sex toy he knows of, trying to decide what Nico might have chosen this time, found online or in one of those stores Martino is still too embarrassed to go in.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” Nico only says, tongue sliding along Martino’s ear, and Martino shudders. “Waiting for you, wanting you, needing you to be here.”

Martino can’t respond except to breathe out a curse under his breath, shifting up to let Nico pull off his shirt, get them both naked finally, a sea of tan skin that always makes Martino breathless, as if he’ll never get over how beautiful Nico truly is.

“I already tried it out,” Nico admits once there are no more clothes separating them, once he’s got Martino pulled back to his forehead, drawn in for a kiss that leaves Martino’s chest aching. “Couldn’t wait. But it’ll be so much better with you.”

“God, Nico,” Martino groans, not missing the way Nico grins at him. He’s never going to get the image of Nico getting off with whatever new toy he’s found out of his head. “What the fuck did you get?”

Nico’s next kiss curls Martino’s chest, hot and wanting, and Nico rolls on top this time, straddling Martino’s hips for just a second before he pulls away to cross the room to the dresser.

Martino is too curious not to watch Nico bend over, open The Drawer and pluck something off the top, as if it’s just been waiting there, already belongs.

“Have you heard of anal beads?” Nico asks as he turns around, a string of what looks like plastic balls, growing from small to large on a string. Martino stares for a second as Nico returns to the bed, pulling the string through his palm thoughtfully.

“No,” he says finally, though he’s definitely intrigued as Nico straddles his lap again, a gentle hand resting against his prick, stroking him carefully, not enough to make him come, but enough that Martino has to force himself to concentrate on what Nico says next.

“They make everything so much hotter,” Nico murmurs as he leans into Martino’s neck, trailing kisses down his throat, along the sinews of his neck, and Martino’s eyes slide shut as he lets the heat overtake him, the tingling on his skin as he feels the beads resting along his bare hip, loose in Nico’s hand.

“How—how does it work?” he manages to ask as Nico’s mouth slides down his chest, fingers gripping his rib cage, the careful scrape of teeth over his sternum as he sucks in a breath.

Sometimes Martino thinks about the first time, how relieved but still how nervous he’d been, the way his heart had beaten out of his chest, thundering in his ears as Nico had slid to his knees in the hallway of Gio’s aunt’s cabin. He’d wanted it so badly then, more than he’d wanted anything in his life up to that point, wanted it with Nico and only Nico.

It’s far less nerve-wracking now when Nico mouths at his collar bone, hums a soft noise against his jaw, drags Martino’s mouth to his in a slow, languid kiss that leaves Martino panting for breath, gripping at Nico’s neck to stop him from pulling too far away.

“First,” Nico breathes between kisses, Martino’s fingers twisted into his hair, hot breath in Martino’s chin, “they go in, slowly, until you feel completely full—” Martino can’t help biting at Nico’s jaw, brushing his thumb over the flush on Nico’s cheek, and Nico bites his lip. “—Then, when you’re _so close_ , you pull them out one by one, and it’s like your whole body is exploding.”

“Did you like it when you tried?” It’s all Martino can do not to come right there as he pictures Nico sliding the beads out of him, a fist tight around his cock, eyes squeezed shut, Martino’s name on his tongue.

“I kept thinking about you,” Nico admits, shimmying up against Martino’s hips, and Martino feels their cocks throb against each other. His grip tightens around Nico’s neck. “How good it would feel with your mouth, _fuck_ , your mouth on me, sucking me off, the beads sliding out— _Jesus Christ, Marti_ —”

Martino doesn’t need Nico to finish his sentence, body pulsing as he kisses Nico instead, heart beat thrumming against his Adam’s apple, skin flushed as he rolls them over, sinking into Nico on the mattress.

“How do we do it?” he asks, rushed, impatient, not even caring if Nico laughs at him.

But Nico doesn’t.

“Lube,” he gasps instead, and Martino is entirely too eager as he fumbles for the lube in the nightstand drawer. He yanks out the tube, unsurprised when Nico shifts onto his stomach, head bowed as he waits for Martino to get himself straight. Martino isn’t sure that’s possible with the sight of Nico’s back, a soft expanse of skin, sharp shoulder blades, smoothing to the gentle rise of his ass, poised and ready for Martino.

The beads aren’t heavy in Martino’s hands as he slicks them with lube, generous, slides his free hand to Nico’s hips, urging them up, off the mattress.

This used to embarrass Martino, thinking about sex, sex with guys, the thought of being naked with someone, so utterly exposed. But Nico isn’t like that, never has been. Nico likes lounging around after sex, naked, stroking Martino’s chest, wandering around the apartment with absolutely no shame, laughing when Martino calls him back to bed and cuddling in beside him.

It’s not embarrassing now, even as he slides a slick finger inside Nico, rising on his knees, taking his time as he slips the beads inside him. The first few go in easily, and Nico nods quickly when Martino makes a questioning noise.

“Keep going,” he breathes, holding himself up on his elbows, and Martino does. “Okay, okay,” Nico says once they’re almost all in, pausing a second to gather himself, face flushed as he rolls onto his side and pulls Martino to him.

His kiss is deep and longing, an ache in Martino’s chest as he pulls Nico in closer, hands smoothing over his chest, feeling Nico’s hard cock against his thigh, and all he wants is to slide down, get it in his mouth, make Nico come all over his chest.

“Wait,” Nico says as Martino starts to slide down, lips pressed to his chest. Nico tugs at his arm, breaking Martino away, confused. “Turn around.”

“Huh?” Martino asks, dazed by the sudden shift, distracted by Nico’s cock pressing against his as he shifts. At the way Nico quirks an eyebrows, though, he gets it, a hot curl in his chest as he nods. “ _Oh_.”

It takes a second to reposition, and maybe Marti’s too eager as he faces Nico’s cock and Nico does the same to him. They don’t do this often since Nico usually insists on making Martino feel good all on his own, but it’s always amazing somehow, getting his own dick sucked while he brings Nico off at the same time.

Nico edges in without waiting for Martino, a smooth hand grazing up his prick, hot breath that makes Martino suck in a breath. He’s not just here to get lost in the feel of Nico’s tongue sliding up the inside of his thigh.

Nico’s cock is heavy in Martino’s hand, the tip slick with precum, hot when he takes Nico in his mouth. He feels Nico’s groan reverberated around his own cock, his stomach twisting sharply at the feeling of Nico sucking him off, face buried in his thighs, giving as good as he gets.

Martino knows just how Nico likes it by now, a little messy, wet, sharp heat as Martino slides his tongue over the ridges. It’s the same way Martino likes how Nico moves so deliberately on his own cock, a hand squeezing the base just enough that Martino can’t come, not yet.

Nico pulls away just long enough to gasp, to reach for Martino’s shoulder. “Marti, the beads—”

Martino isn’t sure he’s going to make it with Nico’s mouth circling his prick again, but he forces the fog out of his brain as he mouth slides off Nico, pressing fluttering kisses to his soft, velvet skin, hot against his lips. Sliding his hand between Nico’s legs, he grasps for the end of the beads.

His mouth closes around Nico’s cock as the first one slides out, and he hears Nico’s muffled curse, feels it against his own dick, wet and mumbled, and his toes curl as Nico’s grip tightens on his thigh. He’s so close, so close with Nico’s tongue sliding over the head of his prick, knowing how close Nico is too as he sucks harder and slides another bead out.

Nico can’t make much noise but to moan, shiver under Martino’s hands. Martino has to stop himself from pulling away to grit his teeth at the heat rising in his chest, curling deep in his stomach, pressure in his cock as Nico sucks him off, moving faster now, as if he can’t wait.

It’s with that thought that Martino moves in against Nico, laving his cock with his tongue, sucking harder, feeling Nico’s reaction against his own prick. Nico won’t last much longer, and Martino isn’t sure he will either.

It’s the next bead, the slight resistance before it pops out that has Nico making a noise, so desperate, almost warning, a nudge at Martino’s hip since he can’t say anything around Martino’s cock, that makes Martino pull back seconds before Nico comes, hot and sticky on his chin, painting his neck, and Martino doesn’t even care.

Instead, he strokes him through it, slides the rest of the beads out as Nico breathes through his nose, never pulling away from Martino’s prick, but Martino can tell he’s trying to gather himself when he doesn’t move for a second.

“Ni,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to his thigh, tracing the freckle there, closing his eyes when Nico moves again, determined to get him off.

Everything is wet and sticky, hot and tight when Martino comes a minute later, gripping Nico’s hips, pressing his face to Nico’s stomach as he gulps down air, not even surprised when Nico swallows, his cock twitching interestedly even though there’s no way he can get it back up so soon.

“Fuck,” he says with a long exhale as he rolls onto his back and Nico does the same.

For a minute, the apartment is silent, afternoon sunlight pressing through the window, over the mussed sheets, the wet spots between them, but Martino is too sated to move, too content to lie there, a hand resting gently on Nico’s thigh.

“A good find?” Nico asks after a long minute, and Martino smiles to himself.

“I should ask you.”

Nico shifts finally, joining Martino at the end of the bed to press a kiss to his nose before cuddling up close. Martino’s hand lands on his shoulder as Nico sighs.

“You can try it next time,” he says, “see what you think.”

Martino laughs, leaning in for a lingering kiss before settling back. “Sounds good to me.”

Nico merely smiles, knowing, and doesn’t say anything as they lay there. That’s exactly what The Drawer is for.

*

FIN.


End file.
